Objects in Space
by Eudoxus
Summary: While the Doctor's picking up the pieces of the 'Verse, Ianto is picking up the pieces of Jack. Jack/Ianto, post CoE, set in the firefly 'verse.


**AN: **Crazy firefly crossover that may or may not have firefly core characters, but is really mostly just Jack and Ianto (and the Doctor) in the 'Verse. Maybe some River Tam? And obviously I am taking great liberties with dimensions and time lines.

Torchwood-wise, set post CoE, and hello AU after that! One of those copious fix that Ianto problem fics. I may go back and flesh this part out if I ever finish because it all feels kind of abrupt, but until then, tally ho.

**Disc:** Nothing is mine. I even stole the title.

* * *

><p>Ianto was confused. It was dark, and cold, and there was something poking at the back of his mind that he knew he needed to remember, something fuzzy and tickling his brain, like it wanted to escape the wrong way. That would be bad, he thought, and he grasped at it futilely, like a dream that the more he reached for the more slippery it became.<p>

A flicker of a memory – too warm lips against his own, arms clutching him life a life line, brown hair and steel blue eyes. Jack?

'_Don't leave me-' _ was it Jack? _'-I love you-'_ no, it couldn't have been Jack.

But that wasn't it, wasn't the part of the thought that was trying to escape. Maybe that was a memory, or probably some sick dream, where, even in his own mind, the only way to coax those words from Jack was on Ianto's death bed. It didn't matter. Something other than that, then. Had Ianto actually died? Why did he feel so, so _anything_ then?

Jack had always said that there was nothing. This was dark, but cold, and cold was unpleasant, but it wasn't nothing.

He tried again to reach the gentle tickling thought at the back of his mind. He would sneak up on it, grab it when it wasn't expecting. He would just lie here (was he lying? He couldn't feel his limbs – just cold all over) and let his mind wander until the thought floated forward, and the he would catch it.

Just a few moments, nothing at first, just the empty loneliness of his own head, then a rush forward. Torchwood One. Cybermen – Lisa. Torchwood Three and Cardiff, being home in Wales. Jack, Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Gwen. Jack. Always Jack. Seduction, loathing, hate (for awhile, just a short while), annoyance (a lot of annoyance). Love, yes, eventually love. So much Jack.

Death and dying. Jack was always dying, but that didn't matter, since he came right back. The 456 had tried to kill Ianto, though. They had succeeded, hadn't they? He remembered gas – they had locked down Thames House and flooded it with gas, and neither Ianto nor Jack could survive that, except Jack would come back while Ianto would not.

And then it wasn't a dream, was it? That memory was real; Jack had said it. It was just like him, just a little too late.

Well, then, was Ianto really dead? Was this it? Was this death? Had Jack been wrong, or, more likely, just lied about it?

The memory was closer now, intrigued, maybe, or drawn to its proper place as everything else fell in line as Ianto finally relaxed enough to lure his thoughts back. He breathed carefully, steadily, afraid that one mis-tensed muscle would send it scurrying away and he would have to start all over again.

And then it was there. Rushing forward as the flood gates opened, just like the others, returning all to its proper place. All at once as if it had never left, and Ianto understood. And he was scared. Terrified. He knew now that he was alone, and he did not know when or if that would change. There was no Jack, there was no Thames House, no Torchwood to save him. They all thought he was dead.

Was he? How could he know he was still alive, other than this was not quite the nothing Jack had promised. He couldn't open his eyes to see, nor move any limb, and as he thought more about it, it felt as though all the air was leaving him. Well, then, maybe he wasn't dead, just dying. Maybe they hadn't realized and had buried him. Buried alive.

He wouldn't be the first. He thought of Jack, buried for all those years. Had he woken, just as Ianto was now, only to suffocate, again and again?

Above him he could make out a faint scrambling, the creak of metal, a voice he couldn't understand or place, and a gentle pressure on his chest. There was a prick at his arm, and as the pressure came off his chest a rush of air filled his starving lungs. He shot up as every nerve in his body screamed and muscles contracted and his eyes flew open only to be assaulted by too bright lights. He cried out in pain and confusion, a strangled yowl like a dying cat that surprised even his over stimulated ears.

"Oh, hullo, just one sec – bet that's awfully bright, isn't it? Terribly sorry, Mr. Jones," the voice he had heard before buzzed into clarity now, and his mind put voice to face even as it scrambled around frantically in his own head to piece together what was happening to his ill-controlled body.

A hand, warm like the one that had pressed on his chest and brought him life, cupped gently over his eyes, shuttering out the offending light. Another snaked around his waist to support him and Ianto leaned reluctantly into the embrace as his faculties returned. He was far from friendly terms with the Doctor, but the man had saved his life, and Ianto was in no position to hold himself up now as his muscles relaxed and threatened to lay him back down.

"Doctor," Ianto rasped, but could think of no more to say.

"Ah! So you remember that much at least. Marvelous. Stupendous. It normally takes a bit longer. What else then do you recall, Mr. Jones? And please," the doctor added. "Be more specific than 'everything.' Everyone always thinks they remember everything, when it's usually quite the opposite."

This was the man Jack had left them for? He seemed rather an idiot, Ianto thought, but it was possible Ianto just held a grudge.

He hesitated, trying to collect his thoughts through the ebbing pain. "I remember the 456," Ianto started slowly. "They had demanded the children, millions of them. I remember – calling my sister; going with Jack. I remember Jack refusing the 456, and they locked the building down, flooded it with poisonous gas. Couldn't breathe – neither could he, but he…"

Ianto paused and pushed the Doctor's searching hands away from poking at his face and shoulders in some semblance of a check-up. "He did come back, didn't he?" Ianto asked.

The Doctor scoffed. "Of course he did. You think the one time you die, too, he's not coming back?"

"I – no, of course not. But why am I here? What is this? This isn't Cardiff, I'm sure. What the hell happened?"

"Is that all you remember, Mr. Jones?" the Doctor had pulled out a small device from his pocket and flipped it on to shine a blue laser in Ianto's eyes.

Ianto batted him away again and the Doctor frowned, but didn't argue. "No," Ianto moved as quick as he could manage away from the Doctor's prying examination. "I remember you. Right before Thames House, you popped out from some alleyway, gave me those blue pills. You said you were the Doctor – the one Jack is always going on about – and if I wanted to save his life I'd do as you said and take them just before we went in to see the 456.

Why I trusted you I don't know, especially since all of Thames House still died, Jack seems to have come back with or without me, and I don't think it matters one way or another whether I survived."

The Doctor looked rather put off. "What is with people these days? Does no one appreciate when you save their life anymore?"

"What happened with the 456?"

"Does it matter?" the Doctor asked, but seemed to gather by Ianto's glare that it did in fact, to a certain degree, matter.

He sighed. "Jack figured it out, saved the world. Rerouted their signal back to them through the children and overloaded their circuits. Only one child perished," Ianto noted genuine remorse as the Doctor relayed this. "And I can assure you the 456 will think twice before they come back to your little blue planet."

"And where were you?" Ianto asked, more pleased than he should have been when the Doctor's face fell even more.

"I couldn't – there wasn't enough time," he answered, and the look he gave Ianto was so hollow Ianto couldn't find it in him to antagonize further; even he realized it was too much to ask one man to save the world every time.

"But there was enough time to save me?" Ianto asked softly.

"I had to save you, Ianto Jones. You're going to save Jack. But don't worry," he added. "I'll take care of the heavy lifting."

"But you said – "

"Ah ah. Now, now Mr. Jones. I said Jack came back to life and saved the world from the 456. When we find our reluctant hero many years will have passed."

"How many?" Ianto narrowed his eyes and drew in a slow breath.

"Many many."

"That's not a – will he even remember me?" Ianto fidgeted.

"I don't know," the Doctor answered. "But if he doesn't, it won't be time that will have made him forget, and he may very well have forgotten me, too."

"Now," the Doctor continued when Ianto had no response. "I'm not in the habit of forcing anyone to do anything. I didn't have the opportunity I'd have liked to explain this all before I forced your body into stasis, but I'll explain now, and if you don't want to help me I'll drop you right back off after the 456 have left. I'll even leave you alive. Consider it an apology for having stolen Jack away for so long.

But time is tricky, and it's easier if people aren't worried about you going missing should I miss the mark by a bit. Since they think you're dead, well, no real trouble there."

Ianto was struggling to keep his head up even supported by the Doctor, but he managed a feeble 'mmm' in response. The Doctor didn't seem to approve of the response.

"I think," he said. "This may be a more comfortable conversation elsewhere. Perhaps a change of clothes for you and then some tea while I talk? Or – oh, coffee! Hack said you're fond of coffee, if I recall."

He offered Ianto an arm that Ianto reluctantly took only after tripping over both his legs trying to get off the medical table he was on and to his feet. "Jack said that?" Ianto asked idle, finally looking around to take in his surroundings.

It was a cold medical bay outfitted not unlike Owen's autopsy setup back at Torchwood, and Ianto bit back a shiver. He moved his gaze to the Doctor, instead, whose pinstriped suit and general appearance was impeccable, other than the mussed up hair and weary face. Ianto figured maybe he hadn't been as easy to wake up as the Doctor would have liked.

Ianto's own suit was shredded. His jacket, tie, and shoes were missing completely, he noted dismally. He had been fond of the tie.

"He did, once or twice or a thousand times. In fact, I think he rather insulted the Tardis when he said the coffee you made was un-toppable. I do hope your tastes aren't quite so picky, but you're welcome to make it yourself, I suppose," the Doctor's grimace said he clearly couldn't imagine why anyone would want to make their own coffee, even if it was the best in the universe, and had Ianto had the strength he would have rolled his eyes.

As it stood, he barely had the strength to remain upright, and was forced to lean against the Doctor even once he was standing on his own bare feet.

"Good thing I'm stronger than I look, eh?" the Doctor quipped genially."Perhaps further explanation can wait until you've had some proper rest."

"Haven't I been sleeping?" Ianto asked, without much conviction, and the Doctor shook his head.

"Oh no, Ianto Jones. Did I tell you I knew a Jones once –"

"Yes, Martha. Well, no, you didn't tell me. Met her and she did," Ianto mumbled.

"Ah! Lovely. Lovely girl. Absolutely brilliant, that one. Never took any of my excuses, let me tell you. Yes, but anyhow, you weren't asleep, Mr. Jones," the Doctor paused to reposition Ianto's arm over his shoulder. "For all intents and purposes, you were dead. It takes a lot of energy to come back to life, as I'm sure you've observed."

"Dead?" Ianto repeated, dazed.

"Yes. Very nearly, at least. So near you even count it. Here we are!" the Doctor opened a door and led Ianto to a huge, plush, very round bed. "It's Jack's room, actually. Surprise, surprise. But I don't think he'll mind. I believe the – ah, yes. The bed spins, even."

He flicked a switch above the bedside table. Ianto laid down on the slowly rotating mattress and reached weakly for the switch as it came round. He managed to flick it and the bed came to a halt with Ianto's head pointing towards the Doctor. He tilted his chin up so he could see the pinstriped suit and madly grinning face.

"You're insane, aren't you?" Ianto asked.

"Well, I'm not the one with the spinning bed, now am I? Come find me when you're up. I think some of Jack's things are still in the closet, or I can supply you with a dashing new wardrobe if you'd prefer. I can tell you're a man of fine tastes. I hope you like converse."

"Er –"

"Never mind now, though. Sleep tight, Ianto. Even if I have to return you to Cardiff 2009, it's a pleasure to have you on board at the moment."

The Doctor was out the door before Ianto could respond, but he hadn't much energy either way. The lights turned themselves off as soon as Ianto had barely even thought about them, and he imagined he could catch the faintest trace of a scent that was so very Jack as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
